


narrative

by viscrael



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crushes, M/M, boys being dumb, tsukkis kinda a jerk, yama sings in the shower at some point??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6662359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscrael/pseuds/viscrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hangs around them. Tadashi feels it in the space between their feet when they stand in front of each other, feels it at lunch when he slides into a chair next to Tsukki and knows there’s a classmate’s eyes on the back of his neck, feels it at practice when Coach is giving a lecture and Tadashi accidentally picks up Tsukishima’s water bottle instead of his own. It’s there; fizzes; bubbles; builds until he can’t open his mouth under the weight of it. He wants to say something. He <em>needs to say something.</em></p>
<p>He doesn’t.</p>
<p>It builds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	narrative

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this abt a month ago based off a prompt i saw somewhere abt character a singing in the shower and character b being like ahhHHHHH
> 
> except i was like ehhh honestly tadashi wldnt be that good at singing?? like. hed be okay just not like Super Good. but tsukki wld get flustered anyway b/c hes head over heels for this boy lbr
> 
> anyway it somehow morphed into this and barely touches the prompt at all so apologies for that :'0
> 
> sorry for any typos, ive not had this looked over!

It isn’t that Tadashi is actively trying to _avoid_ singing in front of others; it’s just that he doesn’t have a reason, or for that matter, a desire to.

He isn’t very good at it, that he knows, but he’d like to think he isn’t that horrible either. It’s just—when you live your life making yourself smaller for others, it becomes difficult to _want_ to draw attention to yourself, even in a way so small. Tadashi has always been on the sidelines, always been a secondary character in his own narrative. Things like attention are rare to come by; not unwanted, but not sought after either.

And besides, who wants to hear him, anyway?

 

\--

 

The team goes out for karaoke one Saturday night, nearing the end of September when the air is still cool and they’re not so stressed about grades. Tadashi goes. He isn’t going to at first, but Hinata does that thing where he jumps up and down and looks absolutely heartbroken when you say no, and Tadashi doesn’t like that look. Somehow, Hinata and him have gotten closer. And he doesn’t like letting down his friends.

So he goes, and somehow convinces Tsukishima to tag along too, even if he grumbles and sulks the whole way there and sits in the corner seat by himself once they arrive. Still, he smiles a little and leans over to make snide, insincere remarks to Tadashi about Tanaka and Nishinoya’s singing. Eventually, he’s lightened up, and Tadashi thinks he’s glad he pushed him to come along. Tsukishima doesn’t get out with the team much, but it’s always better when he does.

(Not that everyone else on the team would always agree with that statement, but Tadashi isn’t everyone else. He likes that Tsukki’s making friends with his teammates, and that his teammates are making friends with Tsukki. He gets that Tsukishima’s personality just isn’t for everyone, he really does—but as much as he tries to not let it, it still kind of bothers him when his loved ones don’t all get along.)

It’s a nice outing.

 

\--

 

There’s been this _thing_ building between the two of them for a while now—an underlying something that used to be nothing. Tadashi’s scared it’s going to get so big that it’ll feel like everything. Even now, it sometimes does.

It’s tangible, in the worst possible way. Or, maybe the best? Tadashi can never tell. Half the time it feels like distance, dissonance, and the other half it feels like safety, and a familiar warmth. But whatever it is, it’s tangible.

It hangs around them. Tadashi feels it in the space between their feet when they stand in front of each other, feels it at lunch when he slides into a chair next to Tsukki and knows there’s a classmate’s eyes on the back of his neck, feels it at practice when Coach is giving a lecture and Tadashi accidentally picks up Tsukishima’s water bottle instead of his own. It’s there; fizzes; bubbles; _builds_ until he can’t open his mouth under the weight of it. He wants to say something. He _needs to say something._

He doesn’t.

It builds.

 

\--

 

“Tsukki?”

“What?”

“…”

“…What is it, Yamaguchi?”

“Have you ever…liked…someone?”

“…What’s this about?”

“Nothing. Er—I don’t know. Yachi was talking the other day…”

“About liking people.”

“Kind of. It’s, um, private, so I can’t tell you exactly what she said. Sorry.”

“Right.”

“…So, have you?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Have you?”

“What?”

“Have you liked someone?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Oh.”

“Hah. You sound like me now.”

“…Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki.”

 

\--

 

Tadashi had a crush on Yachi for a while.

It was only for a month and some change, really, but it was pretty bad while it lasted. Who could blame him, really? Yachi’s as cute as they come, sweet and hardworking and down to earth and very, very worthy of Tadashi’s affection. Of course he would develop a crush on her.

He never tried to confess, but he did accidentally let it slip that he liked her. The two of them were hanging out outside of practice for the first time, and he made one too many loose-lipped comments, and she caught on.

She wasn’t weirded out by it or anything; Yachi was just too sweet for that. She let him down as easily as she could, face red from how flustered she was.

“I’m so sorry, Yamaguchi-kun, but I can’t like you like that,” she’d said, the words trailing off as she spoke, losing confidence. Tadashi blinked.

“You mean, like, you can only see me as a friend?” He had been prepared for that, and he hadn’t ever really entertained the idea of her reciprocating anyway so he wasn’t surprised. A little upset maybe, but he would get over it.

“Oh, that’s—“ She looked down. “That’s part of it…”

“What’s the other part?” He didn’t want to push her, but, well.

The conversation led to them having a heart to heart, and Yachi coming out to him as a lesbian, which in retrospect didn’t sound too farfetched. She always seemed more interested in Shimizu-san than any of the male upperclassmen.

She wasn’t surprised that he took the news well, but the conversation did open up the topic of sexuality and, in specific, Tadashi’s. He figured that since she knew what he was going through, he could talk to her about that sort of thing, right? It was okay with her. She wouldn’t turn him away, or act disgusted, or tell him he was just confused—Yachi wasn’t like that. She would listen.

He told her about how he’d been playing around with the label _bisexual_ for a while, how he’d always sort of been attracted to guys _and_ girls, but repressed the attraction to guys.

“I’ve never been attracted to guys,” she said, “but I know what you mean about repressing it.”

Even that simple comment was a comfort. He liked knowing he wasn’t alone.

They spoke for a long time. It was refreshing to have someone to share his thoughts with. They made a promise to come to each other about this sort of thing if either of them ever wanted help or a place to feel safe.

Tadashi still goes to her when he needs to, and she to him. It’s one of the things that has brought them together, and even though he no longer likes her like that, it’s nice.

 

\--

 

“Tsukki, can I borrow your notes from last class? I fell asleep on accident again…”

“Don’t make a habit of it.”

“Thanks, Tsukki!”

“...Did you not get enough sleep last night?”

“Hm?”

“You said you fell asleep in class again. Did you go to bed late?”

“Oh, yeah. Yachi and I ended up texting for too long, so I stayed up pretty late talking to her.”

“...Ah.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. Get the notes back to me tomorrow.”

“Okay, will do! See you at lunch!”

“…Sure.”

 

\--

 

Tadashi showers at Tsukishima’s house on the nights that they have sleepovers. Most of the time when he goes to other people’s houses, he doesn’t like using their showers; there’s something uncomfortably intimate about using an acquaintance’s bathroom to shower, even worse when he’s only been over a couple of times. But it’s not like that with Tsukki. By this point, Tsukki’s home is his and vice versa. Nothing is weird.

(Except that fizzing; bubbling; building; _everything_.)

So they share space. They share most things. Tadashi only spends the bare minimum amount of time in the bathroom because as nice as it is, he doesn’t want to use all the hot water. He’s always been taught to be as polite as he can be at others’ houses, and even though the Tsukishimas have known him for most of his childhood, the habit carries.

He steps out of the bathroom humming, already in pajamas with a towel around his neck. Tsukki is on the floor with his back pressed to the side of the bed, looking at his phone. He doesn’t look up when Tadashi closes the door behind him, typing something quickly.

“The shower’s open,” Tadashi says, which is stupid of him, he thinks, because of course it’s open if he just got out. “I mean…” he starts to amend, but Tsukishima stands, shoving his phone in his back pocket, and brushes past him to the bathroom with nothing but a mumbled, “Thanks.” His face is red, and he still isn’t making eye contact.

Tadashi listens to the shower turn on in confused silence. By the time Tsukishima comes out (in his pajamas like Tadashi, glasses already on), Tadashi has made himself comfortable on the palette on the floor, the one Tsukishima makes for him every time he sleeps over—that is, if they don’t fall asleep on the couch together on accident first. Tsukishima glances at him when he thinks Tadashi isn’t paying attention.

“Are you okay?” Tadashi asks because that’s easier than _did I do something wrong?_ or _are you mad at me?_ or _are you disgusted by me?_ He thinks Tsukishima found out somehow between the time Tadashi stepped in the shower and the time he stepped out, that he’d put two and two together the way Daichi had already done (had approached him about, even, had had a talk with him about), that he finally pointed out the obvious and said _I want nothing to do with this anymore_.

Tsukishima frowns, and it’s the first time he’s looked at Tadashi in the past thirty minutes. “Of course,” he pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, nervous habit, “why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Tadashi rolls his ankles. Quietly, he continues, “It’s just that you haven’t been able to look at me, so I wanted to make sure I hadn’t…” _Made you angry, grossed you out, ruined everything_.

“I’m not mad at you.”

That calms Tadashi, if only a little. “Right. That’s good.”

Neither of them speaks for a moment. Tadashi feels Tsukishima sigh, listening to his footsteps on the wooden floor. A drawer opens and he rummages around for a moment. Seconds later there’s an extra blanket being thrown next to Tadashi. He blinks at it and raises his gaze to the other.

“You don’t have to look so nervous.” Tsukishima’s tone is even, but he’s still adjusting his glasses. For good measure, he repeats, “I’m not mad at you.”

“I know.” But it still feels like he is. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” It’s a lie, and he takes a beat to compensate for it. “You were singing.”

“What?”

“In the shower.”

Tadashi’s face heats up before he can will it not to. “…Oh. Sorry, I forgot your walls aren’t as thick as mine…”

“Stop apologizing. It’s not a big deal.”

But it must be, because he still has trouble looking Tadashi in the eye the rest of the night.

 

\--

 

Tsukishima is jealous.

Tadashi realizes this in a moment of bright clarity, the last piece he needed to make the whole picture, a frustratingly obvious fact that he regrets overlooking in hindsight. The catalyst is small; Nishinoya is flirting with him in that teasing, completely harmless way of his that he flirts with just about everyone, a cheesy pick up line that means absolutely nothing to either him or Tadashi. It usually gets him to laugh, which is why he thinks Noya keeps doing it despite any actual interest in Tadashi, and this time he snorts mid-gulp and has to take a moment to choke on his water before he can laugh at it fully.

When he pulls himself up from where he’d been bent over, Nishinoya still grinning at his own horrible attempt at flirting, Tadashi’s eyes meet Tsukki’s from across the gym. His laughter dies when he realizes that Tsukishima’s jaw is clenched, and the water bottle in his left hand looks like it might break with how hard he’s holding on to it.

At first Tadashi doesn’t realize what’s wrong. He only knows that his best friend is upset about something—visibly pissed off, even—and that it might, maybe, possibly be Tadashi’s fault. Nishinoya slaps Tadashi on the back and pulls him into conversation, and Tadashi forces himself to refocus on volleyball for the time being. He makes a mental note to push the topic on their walk home.

By the time practice has ended, the sun has set and they’re walking together in near darkness. Street lights shine on either side of them, but Tadashi still has trouble seeing more than a couple yards in front of them. He waits until they’re both sufficiently quiet—half so he doesn’t bring it up at a bad time, half so he can calm his nerves and building curiosity—and starts, “So what was that at practice?”

“What was what at practice?” It’s a question, but Tsukishima’s voice doesn’t lilt up at the end, his hands shoved in his pockets, headphones around his neck: the perfect image of cold disinterest.

“You seemed angry.”

“Did I?”

Tadashi frowns. “Yes. You did.”

Tsukishima must realize this is his friend’s no-nonsense voice. His shoulders relax just a little. “It wasn’t anything.”

“Is it because of Nishinoya?”

He’s had hours to think over what could have been pissing his friend off so badly, and the only logical conclusion is Nishinoya. After all, Tsukishima had been looking right at them, hadn’t he? He’d been watching. Glaring at Noya or maybe both of them, with his hands so tight around his bottle the top might have popped off. The reason _for_ his anger, however, is not something Tadashi has managed to figure out. The only reason he can come up with…

The thought of it is enough to make his hands fidget. If he’s not careful, they’ll start shaking. “Do you have a problem with Nishinoya being gay?”

If Tsukishima is surprise by the accusation, it’s difficult to tell in the dark. He pushes his glasses up on his nose again, and his hands go to rest on his headphones like he’s preparing to put them back on. He looks away. “Oh, sure.”

He’s joking, but it’s not the answer Tadashi wants right now. His hands really _do_ start to shake.

“You can really be an asshole sometimes, Tsukki,” he says, and it’s spitting more than mumbling. He runs the rest of the way home.

 

\--

 

To: You

From: tsukki

Sent at 8:48 P.M.

 

            I’m sorry.

 

\--

 

It’s a dumb apology, one that Tadashi is reluctant to accept. He’s not sure if he should really be this upset about such a stupid response, but he gets mad about it the next morning when he sees Tsukishima in practice and has to disappear to the bathroom for ten minutes to keep himself from crying.

(And he does cry—a little. Tadashi would like to say it was from anger, but he can’t help feeling somehow betrayed by Tsukishima, like he should have known better, like he should have known in the first place. It isn’t like Tadashi has told his friend yet, but he had been working towards it, reassuring himself that Tsukki’s a jerk but not _that_ much of a jerk. Is it proof that he was wrong to assume that?)

He ignores Tsukishima during class. He tells himself it isn’t on purpose and that it’s just so he can keep from getting upset again—distance is probably what he needs for the time being—but Tsukishima leans over to help Tadashi with a worksheet he’s struggling with, and Tadashi leans away.

Tadashi doesn’t think he’s ever seen Tsukishima look betrayed. This is a first.

It isn’t until lunch that Tadashi has calmed down enough to speak with his friend. They’re in the classroom, shoveling food into their mouth in silence, the room empty except them and a few other kids they’ve barely talked to. Tsukishima finishes taking a sip of his water and looks at his bento with feigned interest.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Tadashi had never responded to his text.

Tadashi chews his food slowly and swallows through the lump in his throat. He’s not nearly as angry as he was earlier. Now the betrayal comes back in bulk, and he hopes his eyes don’t start prickling again. “Okay.” And before he can lose his momentum, “Did you mean that?”

“That I’m sorry?”

“No. About Nishinoya and…having a problem with it.”

Tsukishima’s lips turn down in a barely perceptible frown, confusion that he’s not one hundred percent committed to. “No. I didn’t mean that.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

It feels like a stupid question to ask because Tadashi has a million answers for it. _Because you wanted to, because you didn’t know what else to say, because you were trying to make light of something you shouldn’t make light of, because you can be a real asshole sometimes_ —

The blonde shrugs stiffly. It’s small, but Tadashi can see he’s uncomfortable, out of place in his own skin for a change. “Like you said. I was just being an asshole.”

Lunch is almost over, but that still isn’t the answer Tadashi wants. He pushes, “You never told me why you were angry at Nishinoya in the first place. If it wasn’t that, then what?”

“I wasn’t angry.”

“You were glaring at us from across the gym, Tsukki, I could see you. Don’t lie.”

Tsukishima presses his lips together and doesn’t say anything, like the command had forced his mouth shut. Tadashi bites his lip, eyebrows furrowing. “Were you angry because Nishinoya was flirting with me?”

Bubbles; fizzes; builds. Tsukishima stiffens—then relaxes his posture just as quickly, sliding back into that perfect image of indifference again. But his shoulders are still tense, and Tadashi has known him long enough to tell when that façade is barely being held up.

“Of course not.”

Tadashi opens his mouth to say _don’t lie, Tsukki_ when the lunch bell rings. He sits through the rest of the next class thinking about Nishinoya and Tsukishima and that fizzing, bubbling, building, everything.

 

\--

 

In Tadashi’s mind, the conversation goes something more like this:

 

“Don’t lie, Tsukki.”

“…”

“You were jealous, right? It’s okay if you were.”

“…Fine. I was jealous of Nishinoya. Satisfied?”

 

Except Tadashi wouldn’t be satisfied, and maybe, if he were brave enough, he would lean in and kiss Tsukishima and resolve their fizzing, bubbling, building, everything into something softer. If he were brave enough, he would take Tsukki’s hand on their way home or steal kisses during lunch when no one else is looking or sleep on the couch together instead of the futon on Tsukishima’s bedroom floor. If he were brave, he would sing in the shower again. If he were brave, he would say _don’t lie, Tsukki_ in the same breath he admits _I think I might be in love with you_. If he were brave, if he were brave, if he were brave.

But Tadashi is not, and has never been. Like he said: secondary character in his own narrative.

 

\--

 

Karasuno goes out to karaoke again in November, when it’s starting to get cold and school is cracking down on them. They have as much fun as they did the last time, except Tadashi is hyper aware of everything, everyone. He’s not shaking, but he’s restless from anxiety, and Hinata takes him on a walk outside while Sugawara is finishing a song.

On their way home, Tadashi and Tsukishima speak like normal. They fell back into their regular dynamic a couple of weeks ago, but Tadashi’s revelation has left him unable to sleep, unable to concentrate, unable to think about much else but Tsukki. It’s frustrating and he hates it, but it’s exciting at the same time—the idea that the boy he likes, has maybe always liked, maybe will always like could reciprocate those feelings is exciting, makes his toes curl and his cheeks heat up.

Tonight, he is nervous. Tadashi has decided to be brave.

They come to the road where their paths split. Tsukishima is already getting his phone out to turn his music on, already raising his hand in goodbye, already starting towards home. Tadashi grabs the other’s wrist as gently as he can. “Wait a moment, Tsukki.”

“Hm?” His best friend stills where he was turning his music on, giving his attention to Tadashi. Now that Tadashi has it, he feels his blood pumping in his ears, his heart beating in his throat.

Before he can back out, he pulls Tsukki down by the collar of his school uniform and presses their lips together. It’s quick and chaste and barely there—but when he pulls away, they’re both red and wide-eyed.

“I really like you, Tsukki,” he breathes, and then turns on his heel and runs home. It isn’t until he’s in his bedroom with the door shut that the reality of it catches up with him, and he smiles so wide he thinks his face will get stuck that way.

 

\--

 

To: You

From: tsukki

Sent at 10:23 P.M.

 

            You didn’t give me the chance to answer.

 

 

To: You

From: tsukki

Sent at 10:30 P.M.

 

            I really like you too.

 

 


End file.
